At Long Last
by bettertoflee
Summary: Harry and Hermione have always seemed perfect together. But will they ever realize it for themselves? Watch as the two come together and have to overcome some of the most trying situations. (This is not much of a summary, but it's H/Hr - take my word for it).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of it's characters, plot elements, or general ideas. It's sad, but it's true.**

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Harry stepped out onto his front stoop and closed the door of Grimmuald Place tightly behind him. The rain was beating down over his head in an almost constant downpour, and he instantly regretted the fact that he didn't own and umbrella. Some things seem pointless when you're a wizard, but much like Arthur Weasley, Harry retained a certain level of respect and appreciation for Muggle inventions.

He pulled his hood up over his head and buried his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and glanced down the street in both directions before muttering a few wards over the building.

_Gotta love wandless magic_, he thought as he sloshed down the stairs and began his walk towards the alley a few blocks over. There weren't many people out at all on this gloomy day and he found that he was entirely too thankful for his solitude. Lately, Harry couldn't get enough time to himself… or rather, time without random people sticking their noses where they didn't belong.

It had been a little over three years since he had defeated Voldemort, but for Harry, the battle would never truly be over. After he had died and come back, and it had all been said and done, Harry had expected his life to carry a sense of normalcy… for there to be a sense of peace about him that would somehow magically reconcile all the hardship he'd endured over the past seventeen years. But night after night, he got less and less sleep. The endless chase of being an Auror had been wearing on him more than he liked recently, and on days like this one, when the sun was nowhere to be found and his only companion was the dribble of rain running down his chest, there were few things that could console him.

Luckily, one thing that always seemed to do the trick was a visit with Hermione.

He reached the end of the street and turned, heading in the direction of a dark and foreboding alleyway. He pulled one hand out of its pocket and pulled the hoodie down a little further over his head, making sure that it covered his forehead and as much of his eyes as possible. He took two large strides and ducked behind a bin which was pushed snug against the side of one of the buildings. Taking one last glance at his surroundings, ensuring that he was away from prying eyes, Harry ducked his head and stepped forward, turning quickly on the spot and vanishing into thin air, leaving no more than a soft crack in his wake.

He shook his head of the droplets as he strode through the doorway and into the front landing of a very warm and very cozy flat. Harry shrugged off his sweater and ran a hand through his unkempt hair, not bothering to pay attention to where the specs of water were falling.

"Hermione!" he called into the foyer. He stopped for a moment and listened, one hand outstretched and holding onto the stair banister, the other reaching down to pull off the sogging trainers. There was a slight commotion coming from within the kitchen down the hallway, but there was no reply. Taking both his shoes and socks in hand, Harry crossed the hall and entered the sitting room in the front where a large fire was roaring.

The space was warm and inviting and Harry smiled to himself as he noticed there were several new photographs adorning the shelves surrounding the fireplace. He dropped his shoes and socks to the floor in front of the flames and leaned in closer to appreciate the smiling faces as they moved about in the frames. There were several that he recognized, old favorites or ones that he remembered taking, but there was a new one of himself and Ron that he didn't recognize. They were sitting outside the Burrow laughing at something… there was a sense of lightheartedness that brought warmth to his heart. It had been a long time since he'd seen that look cross any of their faces.

"Hermione," Harry called, hoping that she'd not be too startled by his presence. "You doing alright in there?" He stepped over to the sofa across from the fireplace and reached behind it, pulling out a little clothes rack from between it and the wall. Setting it up in front of the fire, he proceeded to pull his drenched hoodie over his head and drape it across the rungs, picking his socks up from where he'd discarded them and doing the same with each of them.

"I'm in the kitchen, Harry," she called. He smiled slightly and began to take his t-shirt off but her voice was followed by a loud crash. "Bullocks! That'd be the turkey. Could you give me a hand in here?"

He quickly yanked the tee over his head and tossed it on the rack before darting back toward the hallway and the kitchen. When he came up to the doorway, he couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at the sight before him. There was a mess of vegetables all over the floor, scattered about around the lifeless turkey. Hermione was on hands and knees, crawling about as she tried to pick up all the scattered carrots and potatoes, putting them back into a bowl. She looked up as Harry entered the room and he could see a little stream of tears beginning to run down her cheeck. Harry's heart sank at the sight but he couldn't manage to wipe the smile off his face.

"What are you doing on the floor?" he asked. Hermione glared at him and he quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, getting down to help," he said, trailing off as he too came down to his knees and began to pick up the scattered food.

"Harry, they're going to be here in ten minutes. This stupid turkey seems to have grown back its legs and keeps trying to walk off. Not literally, of course, that would be outrageous – heavens, I don't know what I would do if that happened. Thank Merlin I scrubbed the floors last night and thought to prepare the casserole as well. I thought I'd be able to lift the turkey out of the oven without a problem, but it was heavier than I'd thought. What took you so long? I thought you were coming over early."

She finally stopped her meticulous collecting and looked up to Harry long enough to take in his appearance. "Merlin, Harry! My parents are coming over for dinner and this is how you've decided to dress? Where are your clothes?"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry said, standing with the turkey and walking over to the counter where the empty dish was. "Have you looked outside lately? It's like a tsunami out there – I was drenched."

"And I suppose you've forgotten how to magically dry things?" she bit back, also standing and dumping the bowl of vegetables into a colander in the sink. She stopped with her hands resting along the counter, peering into the pile of vegetables and then looked to Harry. "I'm just nervous, Harry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so harsh on you."

"What's making you feel so nervous? You've got two of the most supportive and loving parents I know. Hermione, they only worry over you because they care."

"I'm just afraid that when they see Ron's not here… I suppose I just want them to know that I'm doing alright; I want them to stop worrying that I'm not happy. There is such a thing as caring too much, you know."

"You don't say," he mumbled, thinking back to how she'd always cared rather… aggressively.

"What was that?" she snapped, turning to look at him with a look that could rival McGonagall's.

"Nothing; I just want you to relax." He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her in closer. She was now flush against him, wrapper her arms around his torso and holding him in a loose hug. Harry leaned down and placed a gentle kiss atop her head. "It's going to be fine," he mumbled into her hair. "Ron doesn't know what he's missing."

"I'm afraid he knows exactly what he's missing and just doesn't care. That's what tends to make me worry. You know… there are times I wish I'd let them live out their lives, happy and carefree in Australia."

"You don't mean that, Hermione."

"But I think I do, Harry. Not all the time; that was a hard time for me. I think I'd miss them too much. But there's a part of me that wonders if it'd all be easier if I knew that I was… more on my own. If I knew that my actions, my decisions, weren't really affecting anyone but me. Do you ever feel that way?"

Harry stood and thought for a moment.

"I think that's something I've always wished wasn't the case for me. And I think that's what I love about the Weasley's so much. No matter how… overbearing they can be, I know that they're as close to family as I've got and I like knowing that someone cares. Either way, whether or not they were here or in Australia, you'd still have me to put up with." He gave her a tight squeeze, trying to tease the dreariness out of her. "What can I do to help?"

"You know you could start by putting some clothes on," Hermione said, leaning back and looking up at him. A smile began to spread across her face. "I don't think that my mum would appreciate your lack of dignity."

"Lack of dignity? Hermione Jean, its bloody pouring outside, I could have caught pneumonia, and all you're worried about is my dignity? I suppose it's a good thing I keep extra clothes at your place, yeah?"

"I suppose it is," Hermione responded, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself out of his grip and over to the refrigerator. She reached in and pulled out the casserole, taking it to the stove. Harry stood, arms crossed, and watched as she busied herself around the kitchen, a light smile of his own quickly taking hold of his lips.

"I'll get to it then; be right back." Harry was half way down the hall when he turned around and poked his head in the kitchen once more. "Do you still have that Weasley sweater you took from my place a few weeks back? I think that's warmer than any of the shirts I've got in your closet…"

"It should be there," Hermione said, looking back at him from where she stood at the sink. "I think your old Quidditch jersey might be in one of my drawers – just poke around until you find something."

Harry walked down the stairs just as there came a knock from the front door.

"Hermione," he called through the house. "I think they're here – should I let them in?"

"Yes," she said, coming out of the dining room and walking up behind him. "Go ahead and get the door, would you? I'm going to move your things out of the sitting room."

Harry took the few extra steps toward the door and looked to his left into the little mirror which hung on the wall. He took in his somewhat ragged appearance and sighed. His hair was a mess, as per usual, but thankfully he'd been able to find the sweater amongst some of Hermione's night things. At least that gave him a bit of a more put-together edge. For as much as he was consoling Hermione through her worries earlier, he certainly understood the pressure. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had never been anything but kind to him, and he certainly owed them a million times over for raising such wonderful daughter, but there was a certain level of… pressure they put on Hermione that never quite sat right with Harry. He just hoped they neglected to mention Ron's absence.

Harry tried to push down all of his own uncertainties and nerves about the evening and reached for the doorknob.

"Harry," Mrs. Granger said as she rushed in and out of the rain. "It's so lovely to see you! How are you? Oh it's been too long." Mrs. Granger leaned in and gave Harry a hug, the dish in her hands tottering slightly as it was squeezed between them. Harry gave her a light squeeze back and stepped out of the way so that she and her husband could enter the flat.

"It's good to see you again too, Mrs. Granger," Harry said. "I see it's still raining like mad out there?"

"Bloody tsunami, don't ya think, son?"

"Precisely what Harry said earlier, Dad; it's good to see you," Hermione said as she came into the foyer and gave her father a warm embrace. "And you, Mum. I'm so glad that you could both make it."

Hermione took the dish out of her mum's hands and ushered them all down the hall, and into the now clothes-free sitting room.

"What can I get you all to drink," she said, passing through the doorway into the dining room and dropping the dish off in the middle of the table. She came back to stand in the doorway, waiting for their preferences before making her way to the kitchen once more.

"Water would be just fine for me, dear," Mrs. Granger said sweetly, following Hermione through the rooms to help carry glasses.

"I think I'll take the same," Mr. Granger called after them. He and Harry had stopped in the middle of the sitting room and Harry was now watching Hermione's father as he carefully took in every picture that hung on her bookcases, every framed clipping from the Dailey Prophet, or article which had been entered into one of the new Hogwarts texts.

"It's amazing what the three of you managed to accomplish before the age of eighteen. I can't very well imagine what it must have been like, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but continued to watch Mr. Granger's steady gaze. Every time he encountered Mr. Granger in Hermione's home, he was dumbstruck to find that the man couldn't tear his eye off his daughter accomplishments. There was a true sense of unabated pride that ran through his veins when it came to Hermione and that was something Harry found quite admirable. Harry was thankful to see that Hermione was so well loved; despite any pressure they might put on her at times. As she'd said before, they cared a bit much, but it was only out of love.

"Well, sir," he finally said, breaking the silence that Mr. Granger had hardly noticed. "I've told you before, but I'll tell you again – because it's the god's honest truth –I'd have been dead before I turned twelve if it wasn't for Hermione. She's saved me more times than I care to count."

"My dear boy, she's saved us _all_ more times than we care to count." He started to trail off, becoming ever engrossed in the newer picture that Harry had admired himself when he'd first walked in. "In one way or another, I truly believe that she's saved us all."

Harry stared at him for a moment, his head quirked to the side in thought.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm not sure I follow."

"Son, when you're as old as I am – ah, yes, don't give me that look – thank you, but I'm a fair bit older than you might think. But when you've reached my age and you've accomplished as little as I have, you start to hit a rut. It's a difficult thing to imagine when you're young and alive, like yourself. It's hard to imagine that you'd ever become unhappy with the things you have… or the reverse, that you'd let yourself get comfortable." He stopped looking at the pictures and instead turned to look him in the eye. "Harry, don't ever get too comfortable. You've got to remember to live. You've defeated dark lords, you've loved and you've been loved… "

Mr. Granger stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and stepped a little closer to Harry, ducking his head so as to not be overheard by his wife and daughter.

"I can see the way you look at her, son, and I know that Ron thinks he's got dibs, but don't let it discourage you from putting yourself out there. She needs someone who's going to push her. Someone who's going to let her go her own way and support her while's she at it. He's a good bloke, don't get me wrong… I just don't know if he can do that for her."

"Mr. Granger…" Harry started, not really sure what to say, but dreadfully hoping that the conversation didn't stay on Ron for too long. Much to his relief, he was cut off by the other man's attempt to rectify what he'd been attempting to say.

"Look at me, rambling on and changing subjects. All I was trying to say is that I don't think I'd be as happy as I am right now if I hadn't married Hermione's mother and I know that I wouldn't be as happy as I am now if I hadn't been blessed with such a lovely daughter." His focus began to drift from Harry's eyes to somewhere behind his head, more than likely toward another picture. "She sacrificed a lot to save us that year. She's something else. Gets it from her mother, I suppose."

Harry was about to say something in way of reassuring Mr. Granger that he indeed had one of the greatest families Harry had ever set eyes on, but was interrupted before he'd started by Hermione and her mother coming back in from the kitchen, this time with the casserole in hand and a semi-rectified turkey as well.

"Soups on!" said Mrs. Granger from the next room over.

Harry followed Mr. Granger as they stepped into the dining room, gathering around the table behind their respective chairs. Hermione was standing to his right and looked over, giving him a light smile.

"Dig in," she said.

Then, for a moment, perhaps due to his conversation with Mr. Granger, or perhaps due to the slight ruffled nature of her hair, falling haphazardly around her face like she'd been in the middle of a duel with a pair of boggarts, Harry was struck by the wonder of this woman beside him. There was a slight jolt of heat that spread through his stomach and he couldn't help but smile back at her, a bit wider than he felt was warranted, but he didn't care. He let out a soft breath through his nose, almost in disbelief at his own naivety. He was suddenly wishing he'd talked to Mr. Granger about the photographs a long time ago.

Harry looked at her hard before winking and giving her a soft smile.

"It looks splendid, Hermione. Truly."

About halfway through his third helping, Harry started to feel the casserole coming back to haunt him and decided to call it quits. Pushing back his plate, he braced himself against the table and took in a deep sigh.

"I don't think I've eaten anything that good in months, Hermione. Why don't I eat here more often?"

Hermione's cheeks took on a light tinge of pink and she simply rolled her eyes at Harry's compliment.

"Honestly, Harry, I think you eat here at least four times a week. And I'm certain I cook at your place at least once a week."

"That'd be why I've started to get this gullet then, eh?"

Mr. Granger chuckled from his seat across the table.

"You can't blame the boy, can you? I reckon if I didn't have your mum cooking for me I'd be over about as often as him!" They all shared a good laugh which caused Hermione's cheeks to tinge a shade of pink that would challenge even Ron.

"Tell me, Harry," Mr. Granger started again. "What do you do the rest of the time? When you're not here with my daughter."

Harry was taken aback slightly by the intensity that now seemed to have penetrated their mirth. Gone was the jolly man who'd been laughing his bullocks off the moment before and sitting in front of Harry was the cross and protective father Harry had been waiting for all night. He was suddenly very eager to travel back an hour previous and take up their conversation by the pictures once more.

"Well, sir," he began, adjusting himself at his seat so that he sat in a fashion that felt a bit more… adult. "I work for the Ministry, as I'm sure you recall. I'm an Auror – I help locate and capture rouge witches and wizards. It's an intense position, and one that I regret to say keeps me busy a good majority of the day, but I've been taking myself out of the field more often recently. I guess I just feel like it's all gotten a bit stressful."

He stopped for a moment and watched as Mr. and Mrs. Granger took all of this in. Hermione was sitting patiently beside him, her face strong and supportive, but her tongue silently holding back any kind of comment. Part of him wished she'd chime in and back him up, make him feel reassured about his response… but he also figured it was good that she was letting him do this on his own. It made him seem proud somehow, that she felt his answers were well enough on their own and didn't need any of her doctoring. Mrs. Granger cleared her throat to speak.

"So what is it that you do when you're not in the field?" she said.

"Well, recently I've been taking care of all the paperwork. It started a few months ago when some things were getting filed wrong by one of our clerks – I stepped in to sort of shape things up and get them back up and running."

"And what made you decide to do it on a more regular basis?" Mr. Granger said, cutting him off. "I've always thought you enjoyed that high-energy lifestyle; moving from here to there and sorting out all of the bad from the good. I dare say it seemed to me that you were good at what you did."

"Well, I still do enjoy it, and I'd like to think I'm still decent at it. I like being able to see that I've done something to make the world a better place – that I'm actively participating in promoting the safety of both the wizarding and muggle world. But," he stopped for a moment and shifted his gaze from the Grangers to Hermione and back again. "Did Hermione mention my accident?"

"Accident?" said Mrs. Granger.

"It would seem she forgot to mention as much," Mr. Granger said, following his wife's gaze and landing on Hermione.

"Well, I – I didn't think you really needed to know, is all…" she said, a bit defensive, but overall more embarrassed that she'd forgotten to include them in such a detail more than anything else. "It was about a month ago… he was only out for a few weeks."

"Yeah, out of my state of consciousness I might add," Harry said, rather jovially. He looked over at Hermione who had now lost all sense of color and was picking lightly at her fingernails, looking quickly between her parents and Harry. "Well do you want to tell them, or should I?" Harry said jokingly.

"It's best if you start," Hermione conceded. "Tea, anyone?" All three nodded and Hermione got up to fetch the pot and a few mugs from the kitchen.

"Right," Harry started. "So I was out on a case – it's still active, so you'll forgive me for not being able to divulge any details – but my partner and I were about to enter this old dingy building. We'd already done loads of spells to make sure that the place was safe to enter, but I suppose we must've forgotten something or overlooked a nasty curse, because the next thing I know I'm –"

"He's getting shot straight through the chest with a beam of green light. I swear, when Macmillan told me that, I thought you'd been hit with the killing curse." Hermione said, cutting him off.

"Well Macmillan likes to be evasive. He's not the sensitive or thoughtful type… and I swear he's still got a thing for you." Harry's face took on a protective front that was not missed by Mr. Granger.

"He's bloody insensitive is what he is!" Hermione nearly shouted. She was getting worked up again, the napkin which had been folded gently over her forefinger not sat crumpled in her fist. "So, Dad, Harry got blasted with some curse that had been cast over the building and it rendered him unconscious for a good three days. That's why I started cooking for him. He stayed here after he woke up and was free to leave St. Mungo's; I'm sorry – I didn't think it pertinent to tell you."

"Didn't think it pertinent? That your best friend had been taken ill and you were nursing him back to health all on your own?" Mrs. Granger chimed in. "Harry, Hermione, dear, if I had known I would have helped – I could have come and stayed with Harry while you were at work."

"We were fine, honest, Mum. I took a short leave of absence from the Ministry." Hermione looked down at her plate, dropped the napkin onto its face and busied herself with the spoon in her mug. "I've had some days saved up. It was good for us I think; after not having gotten to spend time together in so long."

"And where was Ron in all of this?" Mr. Granger asked. "In fact, I thought the lad was supposed to join us for dinner tonight. Where is he?"

Harry's face began to grow hot and he knew Hermione's must have been growing one way or another as well. They hadn't really discussed what they'd say if Ron was brought up.

"Ron's been…" Harry started to reply, but he was cut short when Hermione jumped in with her own reply.

"Ron's been tied up at the joke shop a lot recently. He sends his regards. He and George have been working on getting some new products ready for the big re-opening they're having next week."

Harry stole a quick glance at Hermione and caught her eye for a brief moment. While there was a lot to be done at the joke shop for the re-opening, that wasn't exactly what had been keeping Ron away. Harry's mind was momentarily brought back to the rather large spat the two had a month or so prior and it almost made him sick to his stomach just to think of what Hermione's parents would do if they go word of it. This small dinner party had been planned for quite some time, and so he too had been expecting to see Ron… technically… but, obviously, all that had changed and they'd been kept in the dark. Harry tucked a mental note away for later; he'd need to really sit down and discuss the whole situation with Hermione at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

The rest of the evening went rather smoothly. Hermione's parents helped clean up the rest of the dishes from dinner and she packed up a little plate of leftovers for them to take home, saying that this way her dad 'wouldn't have to worry if Mum forgot to make him dinner one night.'

They thanked the two profusely for a lovely night and hugged them each before leaving, Hermione pushing the door closed behind them.

She stood with one hand on the nob, the other on her forehead and just stared at where the door met the frame. Harry watched as her shoulders noticeably relaxed as she turned to look at him.

"I feel awful, but I've never been so glad to have them gone," she said, a bit out of breath. "When Dad brought up Ron I thought I was going to faint."

"Yeah," Harry started. "About that… I think there are some things we need to talk about. For example, what exactly happened between the two of you?"

**Author's Note: Hopefully you like where it's going so far. Please review if you have the time; I'd love to hear any and all thoughts. It might be a bit before I'm able to get another chapter up, but please do hang with me! Thanks for taking the time to stop by, and I hope you've enjoyed it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. What a bummer. **

**Author's Note: This is a bit shorter than the last, but we're starting to make progress. Hope you enjoy. **

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Harry took Hermione's hand and led her into the sitting room where both of them took a seat by the fire. Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered "incendio," making the flames roar a little stronger.

"What exactly do you want to know, Harry?" she questioned, scooting back on the couch and tucking her feet up under her. Her voice seemed tired and Harry noted that her shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. She looked distant – her face contorted into a cross little pout. "Have you talked to him at all?"

Harry feared he would have a more difficult time coaxing information out of her than he thought.

"No, I haven't, Hermione. I suppose he thinks I've taken your side or something… which I suppose I normally would… but honestly. I don't know what sides I have to choose from. No one's told me a thing. All I know is that two weeks ago at Molly's Sunday dinner, neither of you would look at the other, and he spent all night giving us the cold shoulder."

"I'm sorry I've gotten you involved, Harry. I don't even know how this got so out of hand." She took in a deep breath and Harry reached over and tapped her legs.

"Stretch 'em out," he said. "Should I get some wine first?"

Hermione let out a little breath and smiled, stretching her legs out over his lap as he stretched his own out on the ottoman in front of the couch.

"Maybe in a little while; it's not a long story, but it definitely gets complicated. He asked me to move in with him, Harry." She kept her eyes fixated on the fire in front of her. Harry waited for her to go on, but all that followed was silence.

"I… I don't think I realized you two were that serious."

"That's the thing. I didn't know what to think of it when he asked. All of a sudden, instead of getting giddy with excitement, I was analyzing our relationship. I started to think back on all these years… I would never have thought that I'd be the one who got cold feet."

"I hate to tell you this, but I'm only somewhat following. Why don't you want to move in with him? He's a good bloke, and he really cares about you. A hell of a lot more than I'd have thought he could care about a girl." Harry nudged her leg gently, trying to coax a smile out of her, but she proved more serious than he'd thought.

"Ron's never been very in-tune with his emotional side, but he's really gotten over that, hasn't he?" She looked up from where her gaze had been locked on the fire and met Harry's eyes. "For the most part," she added good naturedly, giving in to the smile he'd been looking for.

"So," Harry prompted. "He asked you to move in with him and…"

"Well, I said no, obviously. It wasn't really him, Harry. It was me. I still can't pin-point what it is that made me hesitate. But I couldn't bring myself to take it back. The longer I stood there in silence, the more awkward it became, until finally I just told him that I didn't think I could do it. At first I thought he'd taken it rather well. He made it seem like he understood, said he thought it was a gamble anyways – knew I needed my space. I honestly thought it very mature of him. Except… the next day, I come home and he's sitting here, head bowed over his knees like he's been waiting for hours.

"At first I didn't think anything of it. I said hello, put my things down and started to sit next to him. Then he got up and began to pace around the room. Harry; I've never seen him so vexed before."

"Well what got his knickers in a knot? I don't see what the bloody –"

"The bloody problem was he came over to see if he'd left his favorite jacket here and found your quidditch jersey in my clothes hamper."

"Blimey. I can only imagine. Hermione, you don't really think that he thinks you and I were…"

"I think he very much thinks you and I were… well… he knows one way or another, your shirt ended up in my dirty clothes, and quite frankly, I don't think he cares to know how. I tried to explain it to him, but you know how he gets. He wouldn't hear a word of it. Kept saying he should have known better than to think that you'd stay out of the way. I just couldn't get him to see that it was just a jersey. And it certainly didn't help when I tried to argue that I had several more in the closet. I'm so stupid. I've gone and ruined everything between us."

Hermione leaned her head against the side of the couch and Harry watched as a faint stream of tears began to make their way down her cheek. The slight orange tint from the flames began to dance across her face and Harry's breath was caught for a moment. He couldn't get over how simply radiant she looked at all hours, in all states of mind, and in every way imaginable.

"It wasn't your fault, Hermione," he said, rubbing his hand gently across her feet which were spread comfortably across his knees. "He's just vexed about sticking his neck out and asking you to move in. He won't see it for what it is until he's calmed down. You know him. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I should never have given you all that old school stuff. I should have known that one day it'd rub somebody the wrong way."

"That's a load of rubbish, Harry, and you know it. I'll wear whatever I please and I certainly won't have you feeling bad about it. Besides; this was the one I stole during the hunt. I dare say if he was going to get riled up over an article of clothing, that'd be the one most worthy of it."

She turned a slight shade of pink and smiled a little to herself. Harry couldn't help but notice. He thought the gesture sweet and remembered the jersey she was talking about quite well. Even more so, he remembered the way she looked wearing it and the exact night she took it. The way her wonderfully curvy hips had stretched the seams just so, the way the lettering of his name lay gently across her shoulder blades, the neck scooping low over her thin collarbone, letting just the slightest bit of wayward hair trail down between her… he did his best to push those thoughts to the side for another time. It was his fault they'd gotten into an argument. He should have known it had something to do with him form the way Ron had been giving him the cold shoulder. He never did understand the way Ron got jealous so quickly – the way every little thing seemed to be taken as a personal attack against him. But, then again, things between them had always been a little sticky when it came to Hermione.

"He'll get over it eventually. I'll see if he'll talk with me. Maybe I can at least get him to have a good 'ol row and we can hash it out that way." Harry's insides flopped at the thought of getting into an argument with his best mate. He could only hope that some communication was better than none and that Ron would make one of his famous attitude adjustments and come around before too long. For as hot headed as the red-head was, he knew how to turn things around in a reasonable fashion. Harry could only hope that this time would prove to be the same. He couldn't bear the see Hermione upset like this – no matter what the reason was.

"I don't want you to fight," Hermione said quietly. "I'm worried that if you talk to him he'll just go off on you."

"That's what we're hoping for, right?"

"No," she said, pulling her feet back and placing them firmly on the ground. "I don't know." She leaned forward and placed her chin in her palm, bending her neck from one side to the other, letting little cracks and pops break the silence around them. "I don't want to be the reason you two don't talk. I don't want to come between your friendship."

"Trust me, Hermione," Harry said. "Ron and I have had our fair share of arguments and they always come hash themselves out one way or another. Remember fourth year? That was a pretty awful spat, but things worked out alright in the end."

Hermione laughed and leaned into Harry's side. He felt his heart flutter ever so slightly as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her body in a little closer.

"Besides," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I love Ron, I do. But I'd much rather make sure that you and I are on good terms. He's hot headed and I don't put much credit in the situation when he gets riled up. I'd be truly concerned if you were mad at me."

"Is that a compliment, Mr. Potter?" She asked, leaning back to look him square in the eye.

"Hmm… I think so," he said with a smile.

"Your eyes are so bright in this hazy light. I love it."

"Really? I've always fancied the way yours sort of glisten when the flames flicker just right. It brings out that gentle honey color." She smiled and turned again to stare at the fire. The silence grew between them once more and Harry began to trail his hand across her back in little patterns.

"Do you love him?" he asked quietly.

"Who?" Hermione asked, her voice far off and disconnected.

"The Bloody Baron," Harry said, sarcastically. "Who do you think, Hermione? Don't play coy," he teased. "I just can't figure out why you wouldn't want to move in with him. I mean, I know you like your place. I know you're proud of it… but I always thought you were proud of your relationship with him too."

"It wasn't him really," she said, her voice heavy. "Well, that's a lie. I suppose it is him, in one fashion or another. I've always imagined what it would be like; to be in love, to be in a relationship – to be grown up and on your own, struggling to keep your sanity between work and a personal life. I've been with him since we graduated, if you want to include our banter before the war, longer. But I've never felt… at home with him. You know? That's all I could think about after he asked me. At the end of the day, when I'm completely worn out, I want to come _home_. If I was coming home to him, I don't think it'd feel like home anymore. I don't want to settle just because it's what people expect of me. So, no; I don't suppose I love him. At least, not like I thought I did."

She paused for a moment and Harry let his hand come to a stop in the middle of her back.

"No one expects you to settle, Hermione," Harry said.

"No, they don't. But they do expect me to be with Ron."

"Well, if you ask me, what other people expect of your personal life is a load of rubbish if it's not what you want. And that's coming from experience. You're the brightest person I know, Hermione, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You'll get through it."

Harry couldn't think of what else to say. His voice seemed to be getting caught in his throat along with his breath and his nerves. That same flutter spread through is heart and he felt as if he drank his weight in firewhisky. He pushed his glasses up a bit and leaned back into the couch, not moving his hand from its spot along her back.

"I think you made the right decision," he said finally, taking a deep breath. "But you probably need to let the bloke know how you feel. I don't think he was out of line to ask you – but I don't think he would have if he knew how you really felt. He'll be upset at first, but he'll come around. You'll see."

Hermione leaned back to settle herself along beside him.

"He might have before, Harry, but I'm more concerned about what situations he's been concocting in his mind after seeing that jersey. Who would have known he'd get so uptight over an article of clothing?"

_I could have told you that… _Harry thought. But he decided it was probably best to keep these thoughts to him self. That can of worms did _not_ need opening.

"Well I better be off," Harry said after a few minutes. He pulled his arm from behind Hermione and stood, stretching his arms out to the side in front of the flames. "Are you going to be alright? Need me to stay?"

"I think manage," Hermione said, a bit weakly. "Thanks for the offer though. Are you still coming to lunch with Ginny and Dean tomorrow?"

"I've been looking forward to it all week."

"Good, good," Hermione said, getting up from the couch as well. "Thanks again for coming tonight. It means a lot to them that you take the time. Means a lot to me."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Say, where'd you stick my trainers?"

"Oh, sorry. They're just here." Hermione walked over to the hall closet and pulled out Harry's well-worn sneakers, holding them gently by the heel and making sure they were a full arm's length away.

"Surely they don't smell that bad," Harry teased, taking them and bending down to lace them up.

"Can't risk it, can I?" she said, teasing him right back.

Hermione followed as Harry lead himself to the front door. The air seemed to have grown stuffy around them, and Harry had a split thought of Nargles or some other mysterious creature floating about between them. With one hand on the doorknob and the other reaching for his wand, Harry pulled open the door and made to step out into the night air. He turned around briefly to bid her good night, but stopped at the sight before him.

She stood before him with both hands crammed in her back pockets, a distant look of loneliness and confusion written across her brow. Her body looked frail and downtrodden and Harry's heart sunk at the thought of leaving her there, alone.

_I very much understand why Ron would ask her to move in with him..._

"Are you sure you'll be alright? You can always come stay at Grimmuald with me – just until you're back in the right spirits."

"That's sweet of you, Harry, but I'm fine. Honest."

"Alright, then," Harry said, stepping towards her. "Sleep well then. I'll see you at lunch." He reached around and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You just pop on over if you change your mind. I'll leave the floo open."

"Thanks. Take care, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, Harry stepped out, turned on the spot, and was walking back down the foreboding alleyway. This time not quite as damp, but feeling much heavier and much more confused than he had at the start of the night.

* * *

**AN: As always, R let me know what you think so far. I've got the next few chapters planned out, but it's taking a while to write them (not that they'll be overly lengthy - we'll see - just a lot on my plate at the moment!). I should get around to updating within a week or so. Thanks for taking the time to read!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. **

**Thanks for all the sweet words of encouragement! This is all very rough; so I apologize if there are mistakes I've missed. Eventually I'll go back through and clean things up. For now, enjoy :)**

* * *

The next day, Harry woke to one of the most awful headaches he'd ever experienced. Out of habit, he reached up to feel the scar across his brow. To his complete and utter joy, there was no extra sting at his touch and the throbbing did not seem to be stemming from the small lightning bolt sized dash. He hadn't felt a thing from the scar since the final battle, and he would be perfectly content if things stayed exactly that way. Nevertheless… there was always some fear lurking in the back of his mind that one morning, much like this one, he'd wake up from one thing or another: a nightmare or from a searing ache that throbbed forth from the little reminder above his eye, and that it would mean the whole ordeal was starting all over again. This thought plagued him more often than he'd like to admit, and he feared it was something that would never leave him.

Letting his arm crash down again beside him, he attempted to will his eyes open, but the dark orange hue that was seeping through his tightly shut eyelids hinted toward a bright room and it only made the headache worse. Having given attention to the scar caused Harry's mind to wonder and he found himself laying there, eyes closed, watching memory after memory play across the dark canvas of his mind. The nightmares had mostly gone, but that didn't mean he didn't remember everything vividly. It was like it had only been yesterday that he and Hermione had been wondering through the forest of Dean – only yesterday that she had suggested staying there forever, forgetting everything they had here, among wizarding London, and just settling down, the two of them.

Part of him had always wished he'd taken her up on that offer. Of course, she wasn't serious when she'd suggested it – not really. He knew better than to think Hermione Granger would be able to just leave a whole world of people so desperately struggling and move on with her life as if she'd never played any part in it. He knew himself better too. Though, he wasn't so chocked full of self-sacrifice that he couldn't admit he'd played out the situation in his mind a time or two. Nor was he going to ignore the fact that, often times, that scenario seemed much more appealing. Things had been good though, especially this past year.

For Harry, the nightmares had ended rather quickly. It was almost enough just knowing that he'd done it; that they were finally rid of Voldemort once and for all. He'd had sleepless nights after the war – who hadn't? But after time, after moving on and throwing himself into his work at the Ministry, he'd been able to _see _the change. There would always be evil in the world, but Voldemort was gone. That was enough for him.

Hermione on the other hand… Harry worried about her quite frequently, and if anything was keeping him up at night, it was knowing that her nightmares hadn't ceased. When the war was first over, the two of them had spent most of their time as the Weasley's. They'd been gracious enough to open their home to both of them, and, having no other place to go, they'd accepted. At first Harry had noticed that Hermione would stay up late, late into the night – usually reading, or drinking a cup of tea, staring like a lost child into the night sky. But after weeks and weeks of moving about like the living dead, she'd wore down and given in to sleep. Her screams were never loud, but at the time, Harry had been having his own trouble sleeping, and the sensitivity to his surroundings made him more aware.

He remembered the first time he'd found her coming out of one – the image was so engrained into his mind that he knew it was something he'd never forget. He'd just struggled awake himself and was preparing to go and fetch a biscuit when he passed the door to Ginny's room and heard a soft, desperate cry come from the other side. "_We didn't take anything, I swear,"_ he'd heard her plead. They were words that had haunted him in some of his worst night terrors – her words, always her words. He'd pushed open the door gently and found her, a sweaty mess, lying in the middle of the bed, blankets bunched around her feet, tossing and turning in a desperate desire to be free from the Bellatrix of her dreams.

She'd spoken to him some about the details, but in general, he already knew. Words didn't need to be spoken, even though they often were. Hermione confided in Harry, and he in her, and it went without saying for both of them that their time together, late at night, after reliving some of their very worst memories, were private. They were moments to be shared with no one else, and so they'd both kept it that way.

Harry had only asked once since then if she still had the nightmares, and though she'd responded with a "Harry, you're so sweet," that neither confirmed nor denied – neither satisfied nor put to rest his concerns. It was, however, the end of the matter if she didn't wish to divulge.

As he lay there in his bed, his headache still pounding through his skull, he tried his best to push all of these thoughts aside for another time. He eased one eye open, and then the other, and reached to his bedside table for his glasses. Once they were on, the room came into focus and he was able to reach for his watch. It was a quarter past eleven – he'd slept in far later than he'd intended and only had an hour or so before he needed to be at the Hog's Head for lunch. (It was a little, dingy old place, but for some odd reason, Ginny loved it – something Harry loved tearing the Mickey out of her for.) Stretching his arms over head, and then pushing himself up and out of bed, Harry figured that the sun wasn't so bad and nice glass of water ought to do the trick for his headache.

And that if it didn't, he'd be happier than ever to see Hermione's sweet, sweet face.

He left a bit later than he'd intended (on account of an older lady, Ms. Cornwall, who lived next door needing help rearranging the potted plants along her street-facing fence). He stole a glance at his watch (just after twelve thirty) as he walked down and into the familiar alley for what had to be the third or fourth time in less than twenty-four hours, and, looking up to glance both ways for muggles, turned on the spot.

The air was a spot chillier than it had been around Grimmuald Place, and Harry pulled his jacket a bit tighter across his chest. The walk to the Hog's Head wasn't overly long, and before he knew it, Harry was opening the door and crossing the threshold. He stole a glance at their usual spot and found, much to his surprise, the ogling face of Luna Lovegood staring back at him. Harry did his best to wipe the look of surprise off his face as he came towards the round booth and scooted in beside Hermione.

"Act a bit more surprised, would you?" she whispered in his ear, giggling a bit as she leaned away.

"It's very good to see you, Harry," Luna said from across the way, either not acknowledging or not noticing the awkwardness a single bit. For as strange as she was, he had to love her.

"It's good to see you too, Luna. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. I've just got back from Romania where I've been researching more about various ways in which to entrance the Gillywiggins during their mating season; their hormone secretions can be quite potent if bottled correctly and help healers aid those who are having trouble—"

"Say, Harry, I was just going to put in our orders, what'd you like?" Dean said, successfully cutting Luna off before she was able to describe what exactly Gillywiggins' hormones helped rectify.

"I'll take a firewhisky I think – and the usual fish and chips. Thanks."

Luna scooted out of the booth to let Dean through and Harry took the moment of commotion to take off his jacket.

"I'll take the outside, here, Luna. That way Dean can just scoot on in. So, how have you been, Harry?" Ginny asked as she sat back down beside Luna.

"I've been good, yeah. A lot better now that I've been cleared to go back to work. I loved the time off, but I just don't know how much more I can bear of Ms. Cornwall. She needed help rearranging the plants again; sa'reason I was a bit late."

"Not again," Hermione said, looking exasperated. "She's a sweet old thing, but you've just moved them twice already this week."

"She's an old coot, that's what she is," Harry said, causing all but Luna to laugh.

"She probably has some sort of infestation. I could come take a look at it if you'd like," Luna offered.

"Luna, that's a generous offer, but I think she's just lonely," Hermione offered. "She's muggle anyway so there's no use trying any magic around her. She would probably talk your ear off and still not understand half of what you say. That's at least always been my experience with her."

"And just how often do you find yourself over at Harry's, now, hmm?" Ginny said, teasing both her friends good naturedly. "Not to rub salt in an old wound, but Ron's been a downright pain in the arse. I don't blame you two for not coming round, but we do miss seeing you. It's been weeks. Think you'll come by for dinner tomorrow? Mum's making steak and kidney pie."

"Oh, that does sound good," Hermione said, glancing over at Harry to read his expression. "I just don't know though, Gin. I think maybe it's best if I just stay away for a while. Let things cool down, ya know?"

"If it were me, I'd stick around just to prove that I wasn't going anywhere."

"We all know you would," Dean said, setting a tray on their table and sitting beside Ginny. "That's why we love you."

He looked around at his friend's faces. Even Luna had a look of doubt on her face.

"Well," he said, smiling. "There are other things to love about you." He leaned over like he was going to plant a kiss on her check but blew a raspberry across her skin instead. They all laughed and the mood drifted back away from the unease that had begun to settle with the talk of Ron.

Ginny made a rather large deal about how slobbery he'd made her check and made to re-powder her face. Harry hadn't the slightest what they started talking about then –something to do with skincare and blemish-removal charms. He reached across and took his firewhisky from the tray and took a nice sized drink.

"Tell me, Harry," Dean said, passing Harry his fish and chips. "How is life as a bachelor treating you? I'm ruddy tired of spending my nights alone."

"You don't spend many of them alone," Ginny said distantly, still more engrossed in her conversation with the girls. Dean smiled, but leaned in a little closer to Harry and dropped his voice a bit.

"Gin and I aren't ready to get a place together yet, and she's been busy staying at the Burrow, helping Molly around the house and all, but Seamus and I were talkin' about getting a place up in Wembley. You wouldn't be interested in joining us, would you?"

"It sounds like a great time, Dean; and thanks for thinking of me, but no. I've kind of got a soft spot for Grimmuald now, ya know? I dunno. Its home for now – all paid off and the lot. Finally got that portrait removed and the dust's all cleared out."

"That's what I thought, but I figured you never know," said Dean before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

Harry did the same, stuffing his face in a very Ron-like fashion. They slipped in and out of conversation. Luna, who had finally found her balance among them, allowed her comments to air more on the logically grounded side of things – something Harry was sure Hermione was glad of.

"Ginny," Hermione said, taking the last sip of her pumpkin juice and setting the empty glass back on the table. "How _is_ Ron? You've said he was a pain in the arse, but I was wondering… is he doing well? Does he seem to be coming round at all?"

Harry shot a quick, sympathetic look at Dean as he slumped a little further down into his seat. He knew Hermione's concern wasn't out of a longing for Ron to be miserable – or to be well and over the situation, for that matter – but he did wish she'd stop dwelling on the guilt of the thing. He thought back to the comment she'd made about her parents.

_There is such a thing as caring too much_.

He supposed this wasn't exactly _too much_ caring… but it'd be nice if, if not for a while, at least for the moment, he could get her to stop thinking about how everyone else might be feeling and give herself some attention. She was a downright blessed creature to be thinking about Ron's feelings after what'd happened. It was so very _typical _Hermione of her. And Harry loved every bit of her for it.

"He's been alright, I think," Ginny said, pushing the seeds from her pickle around her plate. She looked up and caught Harry's eye before directing her attention at Hermione and continuing. "I think he needs to talk about it. You know him; Harry brews, keeps things bottled up. I get my mother's urge to scream about whatever's bothering me. Ron tries to ignore what's going on around him when he's not pleased with the way things are going. Storms around a bit; makes sure you know he's got a tick about something. I think he's always come to after a good chat though."

"That's what you said last night," Harry said, looking at Hermione.

"I know," she said, a bit deflated. "Part of me was hoping he'd come to on his own."

"I'll talk to him," Harry said to the table at large, looking back down at his empty plate. His mind was running wild this morning and he was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

"I could give it a go," Luna chimed in, rather sweetly. "Perhaps some distance from the situation would be helpful? I've no idea what happened, but maybe that would be good?"

"Thanks, Luna, but…" Harry trailed off, not quite sure how much he wanted to share, or how much Hermione would be ok with her knowing.

"It's kind of between the three of us, Luna. Harry, Ron, and myself, that is. I appreciate it though. It was a kind offer."

"He thinks you're in love, doesn't he," she said. Harry's head shot up in surprise. He could feel his face growing warm and noticed that Hermione drew herself in a little closer, scooting just a fraction of an inch away from him. It wasn't enough for anyone else to notice; something she probably hadn't even meant to do… but Harry had felt it.

"Not exactly," Hermione said, practically spitting the words at Luna. "He found an article of clothing that belongs to me, but used to belong to Harry, and he made a rather blatant and unjust assumption."

Harry opened his mouth to add his own two cents, but was cut off when Hermione decided she wasn't quite finished.

"And for the record, I don't appreciate prying. If I'd wanted to comment on what had happened, I would have told you."

Ginny and Dean had both slunk back into their seats. It seemed they had become quite interested in a bit of dried lettuce that had plastered itself to the table between them.

"Ginny, Dean," Hermione said. "It was lovely to see you. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it next time. Perhaps we should try someplace different for a change?"

"I –" but Ginny didn't quite get to finish.

"Harry, if you'll excuse me I think I'm going to go home."

"Hermione," Ginny said, with a forcefulness that stopped them all from what they were doing. "Could I have a word? Outside?"

Harry watched as Hermione's face turned a light shade of red. Her eyes were beginning to glass over and she made every effort to keep from making eye contact with any of them. He scooted out of the seat to let her through and watched as she took off towards the door.

"Dean, would you mind going ahead and paying? I think we'll be ready to leave in a moment." She looked from Dean to Harry and then to Luna. "It was wonderful seeing you all. Luna, I'll see you at Madame Malkin's in the morning? I'm excited to see those robes; owl me if something changes. Harry – I hope to see you at dinner tomorrow. Hermione as well. She'll come if you're there and she really does need to come."

"I'll do my best, Ginny. It was good to see you too."

Ginny gave Luna (who had come out from her seat at the back of the round booth) a light hug and then stepped over to give Harry one as well.

"I'll meet you outside then, Dean. Shouldn't take long, just come out when you've finished," and she walked off toward the exit in a furry.

Harry followed Dean up to the counter, adding Hermione's and Luna's bill to his own.

Hermione's back tensed at the sound of the door clanging shut behind Ginny. She was seated on a little bench just outside the Hog's Head and was miserable; completely regretting the fit she'd thrown and her own self-inflicted banishment to the outdoors. She let out a deep breath, burying her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, and scooted over so that Ginny could sit next to her.

"What's really eating at you," Ginny asked as she slid in beside her. "That's not like you to bite out at someone – especially Luna. I know you two don't see eye to eye, but she just says what she's thinking. You know she's only trying to be helpful."

"I do," said Hermione. "It was just poor timing and a sensitive subject."

"What? You and Harry?"

"No," Hermione trailed off. "Maybe…? I don't know anymore."

"There's definitely something you're not telling me." Ginny shrugged her shoulders up around her neck and turned, stealing a glance through the window towards Dean. "Look, Hermione, I ought to get going – Dean's got this thing for work tonight…"

"The Localized Magical Cooperation Banquet,"

"Yeah," Ginny said, her voice growing quieter. There was a moment of silence between them during which Hermione pushed her hands through her lengthy curls and piled them atop her head in a bun. She tilted her neck to the side, propping her elbow on one knee and resting her head in her palm so that she was looking up at Ginny.

"I'll come tomorrow if you don't think it'll set him off," she said. "I can't promise we'll be able to talk things through though. You didn't see him that night, Gin. We've had our spats but this was different. Harry and I might as well have slept together for as much anger he's putting into this."

"But you didn't,"

"But what if we had?"

"What do you mean, what if you had? Did you or didn't you?"

"Never mind," she said, leaning back up and fixing her purse on her shoulder.

"You can't say never mind like that! Not after dropping that kind of bomb on me."

"There's no bomb, Gin. It was a long time ago; and it wasn't like that. Not exactly anyway. The thing is, I don't think I care if Ron thinks we had slept together – have slept together, are sleeping together – whatever. I don't think I care what he thinks. I think I'm relieved to have a reason to give up on trying to make "us" work like that and _that's_ what I can't make sense of. _That's_ what I don't want to talk to him about. Harry and I… we always find our way back to each other. Nothing stays rough between us for long because we can't keep things from each other. We've never been able to keep secrets. But with Ron," she trailed off.

"You don't feel as open with Ron," Ginny finished for her. "I think he knows that, and I think it breaks his heart. He really does care about you Hermione. He loves you."

"Ginny I love him too," she took in another deep breath. Let it out slowly. "I'm just not _in_ love with him."

"Alright, then you're not in love with him," Ginny said. "He'll be fine. Give him a little more credit. He's grown up quite a bit I think. It's just harder for him to sort through what he's feeling."

"He gets so explosive."

"Yeah, well so does someone else we know…" Ginny said, nodding her head towards the building in Harry's direction.

"Just forgive me if things don't go as smoothly as we'd all like tomorrow night."

"Don't sweat it. You're already forgiven. I'll be your buffer."

"Alright then," Hermione said. "I had better go apologize to Luna before she goes and I don't get the chance."

"Sounds good. We'll talk more after we see how tomorrow goes." They both stood and Ginny ushered to Dean through the window to hurry along. He opened the door and sweetly bid Hermione a good rest of the day.

"Have a good time at the Banquet tonight, you two," Hermione said. She tried to make her tone as apologetic as she could and Dean's smile and wave seemed to signify that he understood. She was nearly through the door, on her way back into the building when Ginny suddenly turned and shouted.

"Don't think you've gotten away without telling me the rest of the story!" she said.

Hermione decided it was best just to ignore her and kept on walking.

She spotted Harry first, leaning very calmly against the counter, talking idly to Luna who seemed to be enjoying the conversation immensely.

"Luna," she said, coming up between them. "I'd like to apologize for the way I treated you and the way I spoke to you. It was rude and unwarranted. I hope you can forgive me."

Luna's eyes were sweet and she looked at Hermione with understanding and what Hermione swore was a bit of pity.

"It's all behind us," she said. "I'm glad you've come back inside. It seems rather chilly out today."

"It is getting colder out," Hermione stated.

"Seems like a good day to stay inside, eh?" Harry chimed in.

"It does," said Luna. "I think I might just do that. It's been a while since I've been home – there are probably plenty of crawlspaces that need cleaning. I'd best be off, you two."

"Us as well, Luna," Harry said, shifting a bit on his feet.

"It was good to see you," Hermione said. "Maybe we'll run into each other soon. I'm glad you came," she added.

"I'm rather glad I did too."

She gave them each a small wave before going around them and heading towards the back of the dining area where there was a fireplace with access to the floo network. Harry moved over a bit closer to Hermione and gave her shoulder a little nudge.

"Feel any better?" he asked.

"Not particularly," she replied. "I just feel more confused than ever."

"How so?"

"Well, you know what I was saying last night? About Ron not feeling like home? About how I don't feel like I'm in love with him anymore?"

"Yeah…" Harry said, not sure where any of it was headed.

"Well… can we walk and talk? I want to get out of here."

"Sure, I was going to head to Andromeda's – visit with Teddy. Want to join?"

"I'd love to," she said, a smile forming across her face. Harry followed Hermione out the door and they began to meander down the road toward the edge of town.

"So what were you saying?"

"Just that I was telling Ginny I think part of what's got _me_ so rattled is the fact that I'm not more heartbroken over the actual loss of my relationship with Ron."

"Well you've still got him, I don't think your whole friendship's gone down the tubes has it?" Harry said, a bit in shock.

"No! Heavens, I hope not," Hermione replied, watching as her step fell in sync his Harry's. "It's just startling to step back and realize that I don't mind so much that his has happened – only that it's happened the way it has. I feel free, Harry. I feel like I can breathe again."

They'd reached the end of the street and had turned to look at each other and Harry noted the fierce look of determination and relief that spread across her face as she said those last few words.

"You know, I worry about you," he said.

"Harry, you don't need to—"

"No, listen. I do worry. I worry quite a bit, actually. You deserve the absolute best – in everything. You deserve the absolute best; and it's not that Ron treated you poorly… but he didn't treat you the way he ought to have. You need someone who's going to treasure you. Who's going to make you feel treasured. Somebody who's going to cook breakfast for you once in a while – who's going to make you want to come home and stay home. Somebody who makes you cry, for good or bad, but who knows how to make the tears stop; who wants to make the tears stop. If Ron doesn't feel like home, you trust that instinct. I love him. You know I do. But there are better people out there for both of you."

Hermione felt a shiver crawl up her spine –either from the chill around her or from his words as they landed on her ears. How had she ever gotten so lucky to have such a wonderful best friend?

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Harry."

"Ah, you'd probably wind up in a ditch somewhere."

"Right, Potter. I'd be the one to wind up in the ditch…" she said, mockingly.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it."

"I don't think you used that expression correctly –"

"You know, Teddy's probably getting cold," he said.

"What? But Teddy's not –"

Harry held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side and received a look that could cure all pains.

"We shall indeed," she said, and before she knew it, they were walking up a little gravel drive and the air around them had grown quite a bit less chill.

* * *

**Author's Note: I have loved reading all of your reviews - it's just as much fun hearing what you all think as it is writing the story! So keep them coming! The more feedback, the more inspired I feel to keep it going (not that I want to stop in the slightest!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.**

**Author's Note: Please do recognize that this is H/HR. If you're not into shipping Harry and Hermione... this probably isn't the story for you. I respect all opinions and I don't mind if you don't agree with the way I'm writing the characters - it won't be for everyone. Just know that if you're finding the story not to your liking because Hermione isn't in love with Ron... you should probably go elsewhere for your reading enjoyment and you ****_were_**** warned in the summary. I'm really trying not to bash the Weasleys. But seriously. Don't expect what you know you won't find. **

**Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review - even those who aren't happy with the way things are turning out. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you. **

**Anyway: please enjoy the following update. **

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"Mione!" Teddy screamed as the two walked through the door into the warm house.

"Teddy, love, how's my favorite little boy?" she said, swooping down and picking up the little boy.

"I fine," he said. The 'adultness' in his voice caused Hermione to burst into laughter and Harry could physically feel relief spread through him at the sight of her smile. He pulled the door shut behind him and placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back, ushering her into the room a bit further.

The toddler was busy squishing Hermione's cheeks between his hands and babbling on about a new winding robot "Nana T" had magically modified for him.

"What? No big hug for me?" Harry said, poking his head around Hermione's and resting his chin on her shoulder. He filled his cheeks with air and Teddy burst into a fit giggles. He promptly let go of Hermione's face and smacked both hands on Harry's cheeks, "popping" the air out of them.

"Ugh, Harry," Hermione said, dramatically pulling Teddy in closer to her chest and pulling away from him. "What did you have for lunch? Can you smell that Teddy? That's what happens when you don't brush your teeth."

"Eww!" the little boy squealed through spurts of laughter. Harry's face had taken on an expression of mock offense and he carefully began to back away from the pair.

"Well I suppose that means this little boy doesn't need what I've brought for him, eh? You wouldn't want a surprise from sour old Uncle Harry, now would you?"

"Is that Harry I hear?" said a voice from further within the house.

"Nana!" Teddy screamed. "Harry's brought me a surprise but Mione's being mean."

Soft footsteps could be heard making their way up the hall and in no time Andromeda was coming through the doorway, a pile of unfolded sheets and blankets in hand.

"Oh, my, and Hermione as well! What a nice surprise this is," she said sweetly. "Now what's all the fuss about?"

"Well Harry has a right fowl stink to him and, doesn't he, Teddy?"

"I didn't smell a thing."

"Not a thing, hmm?" she said, holding him out a bit and looking at him with speculative eyes.

"Hear that?" Harry chastised from beside them. "He doesn't smell a thing."

"Well then I suppose there's no harm in seeing what he's got," she said, placing Teddy back on the ground and watching as he walked (again, that very grown up nature spilling forth) over to Harry's side. Hermione stepped over to the sofa where Andromeda had dumped the pile of laundry.

"It's good to see you, Dromeda," she said, gently coming up to the woman and resting a hand across her shoulder. "Can I help?" She dropped her purse and jacket into a nearby chair.

"It's wonderful seeing you. Teddy was asking about you just the other day," she said, turning and pulling Hermione into a hug before handing her a blanket to be folded. "What brings you all by?"

"Just popping in to say hello," she said. "Harry and I were at lunch with Ginny. He mentioned he was coming by; I hope we haven't caught you off guard."

"Goodness no; you two are always welcome here. Will you stay for tea?"

Hermione looked down to her watch and then stole a glance at Harry, who wasn't paying attention to anything but Teddy.

"I think we should be able to, thanks."

"Splendid. We'll wait a few minutes if that's alright."

"Oh, that's fine. I'm still quite full from lunch."

They continued to fold the linens, chatting idly and watching the boys play back and forth with the robot and the small knight figurine Harry had brought for Teddy.

"I trust things are going well?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes, very. Teddy and I spend most of our time here at home, but we like it that way. We'll trek over to the library occasionally, visit the park or the museums… but it's usually a very low-key sort of atmosphere around here. To tell you the truth, dear, it's just a bit difficult for me. He's a very well behaved boy, but he is four years old. He's at quite a rambunctious age."

"Well perhaps Harry or I could take him off your hands for a day or two here and there," Hermione offered.

"Harry's offered before to keep him," Andromeda said, lowering her voice a bit so as not to be overheard. "But I just can't put that kind of burden on either of you. It's a very generous offer, and I know you both care for him, but you're young – you have busy lives."

"We really don't, though," Hermione said, laughing lightly. "At least I don't. Harry gets tied up with the Ministry now and then, but we definitely have the flexibility to give you a break now and again."

"Nana," Teddy said, interrupting them from the floor where he was playing with Harry. "Can Harry and Mione spend the night?"

"Sweetheart, they have their own homes to get to."

"And Crookshanks will need feeding," Hermione added, dropping the last folded sheet on the stack. "How do you suppose he'd feel if he thought I forgot about him?"

"Hungry," Teddy responded, the look in his eyes a bit downtrodden.

"What if you come with me and Hermione to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tomorrow?" Harry looked over to Hermione and Andromeda for reactions. "That is, if it's alright with your Nana."

"Oh! Will Ron be there? Nana T, please?"

Andromeda gave Hermione a tenacious look. "You two are too alike for my liking at times," she said. But a smile that spread across her face and the softness of her eyes showed that she didn't mind their alikeness in the slightest. "If it's really alright with the Weasleys and these two, I suppose that'd be fine."

"Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou," Teddy squealed, rushing over to Andromeda and giving her legs a good squeeze. His hair turned from its normal mousy brown to a bright shade of pink and Harry's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. The visible reminder that Teddy was a metamorphmagus never failed to blindside Harry – it broke his heart to be reminded that Teddy would never know his parents. Harry could see a similar thought spread through Andromeda's eyes as she looked down and placed a shaking hand atop the boy's head.

He wondered briefly, not for the first time, if Teddy's similarity to his mother was difficult for Mrs. Tonks or if she was glad to have a little reminder of her daughter. It was something he'd never asked her but had always wondered. It made him think back to himself and all the people in his life who had known his parents. Whenever he looked at Teddy he understood a little bit more the way people had felt the need to voice how strikingly similar he was to his parents. In a way, it was a reminder that they had lived. And that was something that brought a little peace to Harry's mind, if only for a moment.

"Alright," she said weakly. "Why don't you clean up and we'll have some tea, yeah?"

Andromeda gave him a light push excused herself to make the tea. Teddy turned and raced back to Harry, picking up the toys and placing them in a basket nearby. He then wondered off towards the bathroom, stating quite openly that he might be a minute.

"When did he get so grown up?" Harry said, standing from where he'd been seated on the floor, and walking over to sit next to Hermione on the sofa.

"I have no idea, but its equal parts adorable and heartbreaking. Where did that baby with the purple hair and orange eyes go?" she said, reaching a hand up to scratch at the mess of hair atop her head. "I can't believe he's already four, Harry. Four years old."

"He certainly didn't get Tonks' klutziness, did he?"

"No," she said, letting her thoughts drift back to their old friends. "No, I think he's very much a mixture of them both. He's the best of both of them."

The moment which was quickly turning rather heavy was interrupted by Andromeda's return, much to Harry and Hermione's relief.

"Here you are, sweets," she said, handing them each a cup of warm tea. "While he's relieving himself, are you sure it's not a problem for him to tag along tomorrow? I wouldn't want him interrupting or throwing off the atmosphere…"

"No, heavens," Hermione said, taking a sip and looking to Harry. "He'll be a lovely surprise, and honestly diffuse some of the unwelcome tension that's sure to ensue. Victoire will be there I assume – they'll have fun playing together."

"Oh, that'll be good. He needs to interact with other children some; get rambunctious, lose some of that stiffness about him."

"I wouldn't call him stiff," Harry said, nearly choking on his tea from snorting out of amusement. "We were just commenting on what a little grown boy you have."

"We think he's rather charming," Hermione said.

"Oh, he's charming indeed. Charmed me right around his little finger," she stopped fiddling with the tea and biscuits and took a seat next to Hermione. "Ted!" she hollered over the back of the sofa. They heard a flush and then the running of the faucet, followed by the pattering of little feet.

"Get everything squared away?" she asked.

"Sure did," Teddy said, nodding and taking a little cup of juice off the tray along with a biscuit.

"Good, finish up your tea and then we'll go read a story and see if you can't take a short kip."

Harry and Hermione shared a look, both of them knowing that the other was thinking the same thing. What a sweet little thing he'd become – his short trousers coming up a bit above his ankles when he sat on the sofa next to Harry, his sleeves a bit wet from the water, and two ripe red spots at each corner of his mouth from where the juice was beginning to stain the skin.

"But, Nan," he started, looking quite exasperated. "They've only just got here."

"We'll be leaving shortly either way, chap," Harry said, ruffling his hair and bringing him in to his side. "I'll be here tomorrow afternoon to get your for dinner. It won't be so long."

"And if you're good for your Nan from now until then, maybe you and Harry can zap over and help me feed Crookshanks before we head to the Burrow?"

Evidently that did the trick because it appeared he didn't need much more coaxing. He tilted his cup all the way up so that his nose disappeared and guzzled the rest of his juice, and placed the empty cup back along the tray.

"See you tomorrow then," he said, giving Harry a big hug. "Thanks for the knight."

He moved over to the other side of the sofa and grabbed Hermione around the middle. Still squeezing her tightly, he bent his head to look up at her.

"Don't forget about Crooks," he said. "It's been ages since I've held him."

"I promise not to forget," she said, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "You don't forget to be a good helper."

"I won't," he said, sweetly. He let go and waved again at Harry before wandering over to the bookcase in the far corner and pulling off a little picture book. "I'll race yah, Nana!" he said, and took off down the hall.

Andromeda sighed and took one last sip of tea. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited to have some time to myself," she said.

They all laughed and said their goodbyes before Andromeda walked off towards Teddy, leaving Harry and Hermione to finish their tea and excuse themselves.

Harry drank the last of his tea and set the cup back on its saucer. Hermione peered into her own cup, then threw it back as if it was a shot and placing it (gently) back on the tray.

"I feel loads better, Harry. Thanks for letting me tag along."

"How about you come back with me for a bit," said Harry. "We can watch a film or just relax. I dunno… I'm not in the mood to be alone right now."

"Me either. When I'm alone I start to think."

"You mean to tell me you don't think when you're around other people?" Harry said, giving her a sardonic look that faded into disbelief. She began to laugh a little and playfully punched his arm.

"Don't patronize me, Potter."

He stuck out his tongue and got up from the sofa, taking the tray back into the kitchen, magically tidying the teacups and returning them to their place among the other dishes. As soon as everything was right, the two crept quietly out of the house and were on their way back down the short path. The silence between them was periodically filled with the crunching of their feet against a twig or a bit of gravel, but overall, it was very refreshing to be in the outdoors together.

Harry found himself thinking back to a time when it was just the two of them… wondering around God-knows-where in search of horcruxes that didn't want to be found. He'd been doing a lot of thinking lately. Especially about the past. And Hermione.

But he couldn't help it. The past and the future so often mingled with the present, that there wasn't a day that went by that Harry wasn't thinking about one or the other – sometimes a combination of both. He assumed it was like this for all people, but then again, he wasn't completely sure of that. Up until a day or so ago, he would have thought that Hermione had it all figured out. He thought for a moment of saying this to her – or something of the like – but, thankfully, thought better of it and kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to bring anything up that might take away from their enjoyment together.

_"Since when have I started walking on eggshells with her,"_ he thought.

"Hermione," he said. The words had flown out of his mouth before he could really stop himself. Instantly, he felt a wave of regret settle through the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah?" She stopped next to a little bench that sat at the corner of the main road and the one they'd been walking along. Harry picked one foot up and then the other, mentally kicking himself for having said anything at all – even if it were just her name. He figured that now was as good a time as any though; and he would continue to have these thoughts until he got some answers.

"I don't want to make you talk about it if you don't want to, but you and me, we're good, yeah?" he asked. He took a seat on the bench and Hermione came and sat down next to him.

"Harry, of course," she said, pulling a hand out of her pocket and placing it along his forearm. "What's got you thinking otherwise?"

"I reckon I'm just nervous that you're upset about what Ron thinks happened and you're not really willing to talk about it. I don't want things to be weird between us. You know?"

"I do not feel uncomfortable with you in the slightest. In fact, you're the only person I can stand to be around without feeling out of my mind right now."

"Well good. Let's get home then." He reached out for her hand, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet once more. The word 'home' settled over her and a sudden chill ran across her neck. Hermione was taken aback at how easy it was to think of going to Grimmauld Place as going home, and she realized that it was a sort of home for her. These thoughts ran around the back of her mind as they readied to Apparate, but she didn't dwell on them for long, promising herself she'd fully analyze that blasted chill later.

Harry undid the lock on the front door and they both entered the dark house. Hermione looked around the foyer for what had to be the thousandth time, and she was overcome with how wonderfully transformed he'd gotten the place to become. As they hung up their jackets on a coat rack in the corner, she noticed the mirror which hung on the wall. It was something she'd helped him pick out, and as she was in the process of noticing it, she looked around and began to pinpoint all the other small hints of herself that were adorning the walls or the floors… Some things you'd never know had been her doing, like the fact that the portrait no longer shouted at visitors, or the big armchairs that adorned the library, the shelves of which Harry had stocked full of either her favorite titles or titles that she had said would come in handy to have around the house.

_It's no place to raise a child_, she thought, thinking back to what Andromeda had said about Harry's offer to take Teddy. _There are still too many dark memories that hang in the air. _

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked, having stopped to take in the thoughtful expression that had crept up across her face. "I thought I was supposed to be distracting you from thought."

"To be honest," she said. "I was just taking in the house. I know I'm here all the time, but I'm often quite awestruck with the way it's changed since the Order was using it as headquarters. You've done a great job making it into a home."

"That'd be thanks to you," he said, modestly. "What would you like to do? I think I'm going to have some firewhisky; I need to warm up. Would you like anything?"

"Do you still have that cabernet we bought from that market in Paris last month?"

"One glass of wine coming right up,"

"I'll be in the living room. I'll pick out something for us to watch," she hollered into the house, since Harry had already gone down to the kitchen for their drinks. She was just about to cross over into the living room (which was now five times warmer and cozier than it had been years ago) when Harry's head popped back up through the doorway from the kitchen.

"Do you reckon you'll be hungry for dinner? I've got a stew I can put on," he said.

Hermione looked down to her watch.

"I could probably be ready to eat again I an hour or so. Maybe we can take a break in a bit and put it on? It's still a bit early."

"Right then, sounds good to me." He popped back down and Hermione proceeded into the next room.

There wasn't much of a selection; Harry seldom watched movies on his own, but when he did, his taste didn't exactly align with her own. She tried to find something that wasn't overly action packed and settled for a title she didn't recognize. From the cover it seemed like it would be low-key enough; something about a couple who were trying to make it home in time for the holidays but were continually thrown off course. She could relate to the feeling – when you think you know where you're supposed to be and the world just seems to push you in another direction.

She put the movie into the player and turned on the telly, settling herself down into the large couch across from it. Just as she was covering up with a blanket, Harry came through the door levitating a tray with their drinks on it with one hand, while carrying a large bowl of popcorn with the other. He sat the tray down on the table which sat along the side of the room under a row of windows and handed the bowl to Hermione.

"I decided I was a bit hungry," he said.

"I can see that," she said, ogling at the size of the bowl. "You made enough for six people."

"Well I figured once you smelled it, you'd be trying to steal some anyway, so I made enough for both of us."

"There is no way you and I will finish this entire bowl."

"You wait and see, Granger."

"I plan on it!" She laughed and stuck her hand into the bowl for a fist full as Harry pulled the curtains across the windows and brought their drinks over to the couch.

"What are we watching?"

"No clue – _Finding Accueil_ or something like that."

"Oh, that's a good one." He smiled and settled down into the couch next to her, taking a handful of popcorn out of the bowl. "You're gonna love it. I hope it doesn't make you cry…"

"Harry. I do _not_ cry at movies."

"Hermione. You definitely _do_ cry at movies. All the time. You cried when we watched that animated film last week."

"Stuff it," she said, elbowing him in the ribs. "The little robot was left all alone on earth and sacrificed everything to save that plant! The whole thing was just heartbreaking." He smiled and looked at her, waiting for her to turn and meet his gaze.

"You have got to be the sweetest, most sensitive girl in the world."

"Come off it," she said jokingly.

"I'm not kidding."

And he really wasn't. In that moment, Harry could have kissed her and he wouldn't have had a single regret for doing so.

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**AN: Trying to take my time here... but it's getting a little difficult to separate my reader side from my writer side. I don't want to rush, but I'm getting anxious! haha :) If you can, please take a moment to let me know what your thoughts are. ANY and ALL comments ARE welcome. Don't let the note at the top deter you from dropping me a line. You are entitled to your opinion.**

**Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: ****Sorry it's been so long since an update! I miss you guys :) I've been battling how to continue on - I know where I want them to go, but it's import ant to get them there in the right way. I had a whole scene all typed up and ready to go and then thought better of it and had to scrap it (aka move it a few pages down for possible use in a later chapter) and take things in a new direction. I've decided that this isn't one of my novels and it's simply for fun, so why not just go for it!? Here's the next installment. I think I'm back on the ball with it. Hopefully we'll get moving here soon! **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Hermione stumbled through the door after nearly letting herself stay in Harry's guest bedroom, only to find that Crookshanks had thrown up all over her bed linens as well as quite a few of the shoes and shirts she'd neglected to put away. It wasn't like her to leave an untidy room, but it was like Crookshanks to have a nasty bout of hairballs and leave little presents all over the place. She wasn't really surprised when she had to scourgify half of her bedroom. However, it had kept her up much later that she'd have liked. By the time she was finished it was somewhere around four in the morning and she just didn't feel like going to sleep any longer.

She and Harry had finished the movie (and she had teared up, just as he'd predicted) and Harry warmed up the stew afterwards. They dined together, much like every other night over the past few months, and it had been just as comfortable as ever. It always felt particularly good to spend time with just Harry — but recently, she needed his friendship more than ever. Several times through the night, she had found herself almost bringing up the past… almost asking him if he thought they should tell Ron what had happened on the hunt… but for one reason or another, she'd stopped herself.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Harry about it. She always wanted to talk to Harry, and, honestly, if she was going to talk to anyone about the hunt, it should be him. But as clear headed as she was a large majority of the time, she had her moments of not wanting to be rational.

And as she'd kept quiet all night, stewing over the memories and the looks and the feelings that had never gone away, she had grown heavy with the need to spill it all out. To come clean to someone. Not just remember them, but admit to them. As Hermione cleaned the last of Crookshanks' hairball off her bed and let these thoughts roll around inside her, she almost regretted not having said something to Harry. At least maybe that would have appeased this little flame of guilt. For the time being.

She scooted down between the covers (hoping the extra warmth from the drying spell would sort of lull her to sleep) she tossed around the idea of calling Ginny. After all, she'd already almost let it slip earlier at lunch… and she'd feel better if she were the one to bring it up again, rather than let Ginny pick the time and the place and catch her off guard.

_But it's four in the morning… I can't floo over at four in the morning. What if I run into Ron instead… that's just what I need. _

Then suddenly Ginny's voice was inside her head, but you can, and you will. _Screw Ron, he never wakes up for anything._

And with that, Hermione got out from between the covers, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket over her pajamas and moved down the hallway into the sitting room where her fireplace seemed to be warm and waiting.

She tossed in a handful of floo powder and crossed over so that she was standing within the green flames.

"The Burrow" she whispered, praying to God and Merlin and all the Powers-That-Be that she wouldn't run into any other members of the Weasley family as she made her way through the Burrow and up to Ginny's room. She already felt awful as it was, waking one member of the family. She didn't need Mrs. Weasley up as well.

The familiar tug and surge of warmth took over her body and before she could blink, she found herself slightly falling out of the fireplace and into the Weasley's living room. She let out a breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding when she was greeted, not by any faces, but by the welcoming glow of an empty living room. She crept her way up the stairs, avoiding the steps she knew would creek, and stopped when she got to the landing where Ginny's room was.

Hermione didn't waste any time as she pushed the door open and slid inside, shutting it quietly behind her.

"Gin," she whispered into the dark room. She could hear the girl stirring from beneath a pile of very Weasley-esqu blankets and throws.

"Mum, what's wrong. It's the middle of the night."She had hardly opened her eyes, not bothering to even lift her head. Hermione flushed a little, feeling very embarrassed to have barged in on her friend at this hour.

"It's me, Gin," she said, stepping a bit closer. "I'm sorry, I… I shouldn't have come so late, but I need to talk to someone."

"Hermione? What the bloody," she sat up and swept her long hair behind her head. "Is everything all right? Here, come sit down."

Hermione moved forward, piling her hair once more atop her head, and taking a seat next to Ginny. She lifted a few of the blankets and sat them across her lap.

"Gods, you look awful," Ginny said.

"Thanks, Gin,"

"Sorry. What's got your knickers in a knot so late at night?" She squinted across the room at a little ticking clock (very different from the one Mrs. Weasley had, but also very different from the muggle clocks Hermione kept around). "Or should I say morning. Have you gotten any sleep?"

"Not really," Hermione said. "I was at Harry's until pretty late — wasn't home long before I decided to pop over here. I hope you don't mind my waking you."

"Not if you're finally going to spill what it is you've been keeping from me," she said. Hermione took in a deep breath and leaned her head back agains the wall.

"It's not that I've been trying to keep things from you — it's just personal and it's something I swore I'd never bring up. But lately it's been eating away at me. You know? I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Is this about you and Harry?"

"Of course it is."

"I thought so. Have you talked to him?"

"We always talk, and we're always very open with each other — you know, we're very close—"

"Know it all too well," Ginny said lightly.

"I know, I'm sorry. Did we drive you mad?" Hermione looked at Ginny and really tried to think back on how their relationships had all mingled together. She'd never really given a ton of thought to the way her relationship with Harry affected his relationships with other girls at school, or even other women now, but the truth was it did. Sometimes it affected them very much.

"At first," Ginny started. "At first it bothered me very much — that was when I realized that I'd never be able to reach the same kind of friendship that you two had. But I grew out of that and thought maybe he and I could base our relationship off of something else, ya know? We'd always got along well, played Quidditch together, joked around… he and I were, are, good fiends. And around fourth year, well fifth year for you all I guess, I noticed he'd stopped acting like I was nothing more than Ron's little sister…" She trailed off and kind of tilted her head to the side, looking past Hermione at the wall across the room.

"I'd hoped for a long time that something would start up between us… and it did there, for a while. And that was fun. But after the war things were never the same. I thought for sure we'd get back together, but we didn't."

"Do you know why?" Hermione asked. Her throat was growing dry and it was getting harder for her to sit still. The anxiety that was stirring around in her chest was making it hard for her to breathe and she dreaded hearing what Ginny would say. There was no way that it'd had anything to do with her… surely not.

"Eh, " Ginny said after a moment. "I have my suspicions. We never talked about it, but I could see… certain things had changed." She looked at Hermione, her face void of all emotion, not in a way that made Hermione feel bad, but in a way that made it clear to her that Ginny was trying to give her the chance to speak of her own accord.

When Hermione didn't say anything, Ginny went on.

"The longer I watched the three of you — really you and Harry — I realized that there was a whole other world I'd missed out on, and not only that, but I'd gone through a whole other world too. Hogwarts changed a lot while you all were on the run and we all changed with it. We'd grown apart — not in a bad way, but in a strong way."

"You're a good friend, Gin. Really," she trailed off. "I'm sorry that things didn't work out for the two of you."

"It's not your fault,"

Hermione sniffed and raked her hand under her eye, wiping away a small line of tears.

"Stop it, Hermione. I'll give you two credit where it's due — something happened. But me and Harry not getting back together? There was a lot of other stuff that went into that. You knew each other, you know? I didn't know him like that anymore. Sure, I could learn… but it'd never be the same."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you two depend on each other. You always have, and you always will. I think in a normal childhood you grow out of needing your best friend — or rather you grow into needing someone else. But after the childhood we've had? After what you three have been through together? You two grew into each other. You might not be ready to accept it, but those ties can't be broken."

"Well I think they're being tested with Ron."

"I think you know thats not what I'm talking about."

"Since when did you get so wise?"

Ginny laughed and then clutched a hand over her mouth, exaggerating the fact that she needed to stay quiet. "Alright," she whispered, sitting back up. "What was it you came here to talk to me about?"

Hermione was quite for a moment. She brought up her knees and tucked them under her chin.

"I haven't been completely honest with Ron and I'm not quite sure what to do about it."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Thanks for that," Hermione said. "But really — you're right. Harry and I went through a lot while we were —"

"You look really uncomfortable talking about this," Ginny said, stopping her before she had the chance to go on. "Are you sure you're ready to bring it up?"

"I can't stop thinking about it. God, Ginny. He'll never forgive me… Ron deserves better — he deserves so much better."

"But surely nothing happened while the two of you were together," Ginny said.

"No, but it might have well have," Hermione finished. "I hardly think that your two best friends..."

All of a sudden there was a creak which came from footsteps in the hallway. Both girls stopped talking, listening for someone to talk or move, or for the light to flicker on, but the only sound that came through the door was that of a light crack.

The only sound was that of someone Disapparating.

"Merlin's beard," Hermione said under her breath. "Was that what I thought it was?"

"Bloody perfect, Ronald." Ginny said, tossing the covers to the side and standing up. "I'm sure he picked tonight, of all nights, to wake up and go exploring." She pattered over to the door and opened it up a crack, leaning her head out and looking down the hallway. "I'm gonna go check his room. Hang tight."

Hermione didn't move, only sunk deeper into the bed and pulled the blanket up tighter around her chin. Why on earth had she thought it would be a good idea to come talk to Ginny in the middle of the night? Why had she thought that it'd been good to talk to her at all? She should have kept her mouth shut like she and Harry had planned. Or better yet, they should have kept their cool before any of this had a chance to happen. She was just about to Apparate herself when the door creaked open again and Ginny snuck back through the crack.

"He's not there," she said, coming over and getting back beneath the covers. The light from the windows around her room was casting a light blue glow across her face and as each shadow moved with Ginny's mouth, Hermione could see Ron's features coming through. Had she honestly been this stupid to bring it up with him only a few rooms away?

"Why the devil was he out of bed?" she asked.

"I've no idea to be honest. I suppose he could have heard us? He never wakes up like this; Dean's been over loads of times and no one's ever woken up to find him."

"I should go. I… I need to go."

Hermione pushed the blanket to the side and stood at the edge of the bed, her arms hanging limply at her side as if in defeat. She couldn't get her thoughts straight — the only thing running through her mind at the moment was how she'd ever be able to face him after this. And it was so much worse not knowing for sure whether or not he'd heard what she'd said.

"I'll owl you in the morning about dinner," she said softly before walking forward and turning on the spot, leaving a speechless Ginny to sit and stare at the empty space around her.

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**AN: This is definitely a shorter chapter, but hopefully it tides you over and reassures you that I _do_ have every intention of completing this story. As always, bear with me and keep reading. Leave reviews if you will, because there's nothing better than hearing what your thoughts. Thanks to all who've stopped by and who continue to read, and a special thanks to those who have given their honest thoughts. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Yay for updates! I'm really excited about this chapter. It's pretty fresh so there may be some grammatical edits I'll make in the next few days, but I was excited to get it out there to you all. Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

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Hermione stood outside Number 12 Girmmauld Place toying with the idea of turning on the spot once more and heading back to her flat. She was eager to forget any of this had ever happened, and there was no proof (yet) that Ron had gone to Harry's. What would she say if she woke Harry up just a few hours after she'd left him? Ask to come inside and have a chat?

A thunderous crack came from overhead and it started to gently rain, each little drop splattering through her nightclothes like knives through butter. She definitely wasn't about to spend the rest of the night on his stoop. It'd do her no good to get a cold on top of all this stress.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, and just as she was about to lay fist to wood, she heard voices from inside.

"Oy! Don't bloody lie to me! I've had enough of your rubbish."

Hermione's blood ran cold. Just as she'd suspected, Ron was on the other side of the door. At least Harry hadn't said anything yet…

"_Well," _Hermione thought. "_That doesn't seem like it's going to make a difference at this point._ _ I might as well dread this from inside the house."_

She let her fist make contact with the door. The single knock seemed to echo around inside her, and she could only imagine the way it must have been echoing around on the inside of the house as well. The rain was picking up and had shifted temperature a bit as well. Hermione knocked a few more times, her pounding at the door becoming more and more forceful with each shiver that ran through her.

It wasn't long until she could finally hear footsteps making their way to the door, their stomping being followed by shouts of accusation.

The door creaked open and Harry's face peeked out from between the space.

"What's going on," he said. His face was tight with aggravation. He looked tired and stressed and like he didn't feel like dealing with confrontation. Hermione couldn't help but think that it was her fault he'd been woken up and her fault that they were getting into this at all, much less at God-knows what hour in the morning.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

He held the door open for her and let her squeeze past him. The house wasn't a whole lot warmer on the inside that it had been out in the rain, but Hermione was thankful she'd at least be able to start drying off. She looked around the dark room, trying to find Ron. He'd grown quiet all of a sudden and that didn't make her feel any more comfortable than the shouting had.

There was a faint glow of light from one of the rooms upstairs and the lightning was casting eerie shadows across the walls. She saw a bit of movement out of the corner of her eye and then Ron's frame came into focus as he made his way into the foyer from one of the side rooms.

"Thought it'd be you," he said. His voice was deep and full of animosity. Hermione felt her insides grow hot with panic and guilt. She couldn't remember ever feeling so awful before in her entire life. Harry moved from somewhere behind her and flipped on one the light, sending the room into a hazy glow. They all three squinted at first, letting the light mingle with their awkward silence.

"So," Harry said, stepping forward to stand between Ron and Hermione. "Since it seems like I've missed something… what's this all about?"

"What do you think it's about," Ron spat. "I'm tired of all the lies. I just want to know the truth."

"The truth about what, Ron?" Harry said, coming forward to stand in front of him.

"Harry —" Hermione reached out to pull his shoulder back but he turned to look at her before she got the chance to touch him.

"No, Hermione," he said. "He's tired of the lies, I'm tired of feeling confused, and God knows you've got to be tired of all this fighting." He stepped back so he could see both of them without having to turn around each time they spoke. "What do you want to know, Ron? Is this about why you two broke up? Or is this about me?"

Ron stood there for a moment, as if he was trying to think for himself why exactly he was there.

"I'm the one who should be asking you two," he said, defiantly. "I am asking. I want to know what's happened between you. I want to know how you two could sneak around behind my back without even a care as to how that might make me feel. I want to know how long it's been going on. I want to know why you wouldn't just _say_ something."

"No one's sneaking around behind your back, Ron!" Harry shouted.

"Then what the hell was she talking to Ginny about!? Eh? Yeah! That's what I thought!" His temper was rising again to what it'd been like that first day he'd found Harry's boxers and to what it'd been just before Hermione knocked on the door. His face was the same shade as his hair and he looked like he was about to start shaking.

"You knew how much I cared about you, Hermione," he said, a little more quietly. "You knew and you threw it away. Was it so hard to love me?"

"Ron…" she held out a hand to touch his arm but he pulled away and sunk down to the floor, burying his head in his hands. "I'm sorry about what I said," she finished.

"Yeah?" he asked, calling her sincerity into question. "Then why'd you do it?"

"Exactly… what do you think you heard me say?"

"What in Merlin's beard are you two talking about? When did he hear you say anything?" Harry asked.

"I…" Hermione looked over to Harry with a regretful look on her face. She tossed around whether or not she should mention the fact that she'd been at Grimmauld earlier that evening. Deciding that it was best to be as honest as possible, she closed her eyes and proceed. "When I left here I tried to go home, but I couldn't stop thinking, so I went over to speak with Ginny. I guess we must've woken Ron up because the next thing I know he's disapparated out of the house in a storm after I said… some things that I probably should've kept to myself."

She took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to be honest and forthright with Ron, it was hard to release the secret she and Harry had been keeping for so long. It was hard to let the words leave her lips — and she imagined her difficulty in just coming out with it was what had lead them to having the bout of trouble they now found themselves in.

"Mate," Harry said. Ron looked up, his eyes starting daggers into Harry. "Alright, look, you wanna know the truth, you've got to take it like an adult. If you're gonna act like this we're not telling you anything. Honesty's lost on deaf ears."

"You'll tell me everything?" Ron said, his voice cool but lacking that animosity Hermione had heard in it before.

Harry looked over at Hermione, silently telling her that it was her turn to chime in — that he'd let her be the one to decide if they'd tell him everything or not.

"Everything," she said quietly.

"Alright then," Ron said. "I'll try my best to keep cool."

"I think you'll be surprised about how much you've made it out to be a bigger deal than it is," Harry said, reaching down and grabbing Ron's shoulder. He pulled the red head up and lead all thee of them down into the kitchen where they had a seat around the table.

"Where do you want us to start," Harry asked.

Ron looked at him, his mouth dropping open slightly. "Uh, the beginning?" he said, in disbelief.

"Right, well," Harry looked to Hermione. "Er…"

"Ugh," Hermione said, throwing her head into her hands and pushing her fingers through her hair. "We need some ground rules first. Ron; you're not allowed to interrupt. You have to listen to what we have to say — to our side of the story. You have to trust that we're telling the truth, and you have to take it for what it is. Don't read into it and don't try and tell us that we've done anything to purposefully try and hurt you. Because we haven't and I will NOT allow you to argue that we have."

"And in return you'll tell me everything," he said.

"Everything," Hermione finished. "I promise."

Ron looked to Harry and Harry nodded his head, looking to Hermione. "Everything."

"Alright," Hermione said, "During the hunt, you left," she looked up at Ron as she tied her hair up into a loose bun. "Harry and I…. you have to understand, Ron. Harry and I grew very close during that time. There were nights when I stayed up for hours, just crying. Half the time I'd cry myself to sleep over you, the other half over my parents or the future. I… It was a very hard time for all of us, but especially for me and Harry. You have to understand that we thought you'd left for good. I thought you weren't ever coming back."

"But Hermione," Ron cut in.

"No," Harry said for her. "You aren't allowed to interrupt. We had no way of knowing you were coming back or that you had any thought of doing so. When you left — the _way_ you left, would you have thought you'd come back?"

Ron was silent.

"It was in the dead of winter, we were in the middle of nowhere with that dreadfully depressing locket, we were hungry, we were tired, we were at our wit's end. I thought, as much as Harry, that there would be no future after the war. I never thought I'd see my parents again and I never thought I'd see a life after Hogwarts, a life after the war. For me," she looked at Harry. "For us… we were just waiting for it to be over.

"We could listen to that radio as much as we wanted, find a little bit of peace in the names we didn't hear, like you, but it was never quite the same for us. Harry's been without a family ever since he can remember and I'd sent mine away without a recollection of who I was. We didn't have anyone to go home to. It was just the two of us."

She stopped, her eyes had grown misty and her focus had locked on a window at the far end of the kitchen. She reached out and took hold of Harry's hand, her eyes unmoving, and gave him a gentle squeeze, silently asking him to take over.

"I hated watching her get like that," he said, stroking the back of her hand absentmindedly. He looked up to meet Ron's eyes and was surprised at the lack of anger he found. It wasn't necessarily replaced with any level of understanding, but Harry wondered if he wasn't starting to get the picture a little more than he ever had before. "I was angry with you — angry that you'd left, yes, but more bitter that you'd left _her_ than anything else. I didn't care that you'd left me; I'd told both of you a thousand times you didn't have to come along. It wasn't that. You shouldn't have left her though. I hated that you were so blind to how much she loved you. I hated that you were so selfish as to leave without thinking about how it'd make her feel — that you'd let her stay in harms way while you ran off to the safety and comfort of home.

Every night she cried herself to sleep was a night I went without rest. If she was awake, so was I. If she was in a state, I wasn't able to do anything but watch her. I was terrified of what she'd do, or what she'd forget to do. But then one night, when we were sitting on the sofa after dinner listening to the radio, it occurred to me that watching her cry wasn't helping her get over it. So we started talking about random things."

Hermione laughed a little and it pulled Harry back into the moment. He quickly pulled his hand away from hers and stuffed it back into his lap. Neither of the other two really seemed to notice how long it'd been there, but Harry could feel his stomach filling with nerves and his pulse quickened just a tad.

"Remember," she looked at Harry. "You asked me when I first realized I wasn't "normal" and I was so offended." Harry joined her in laughing and they both looked at Ron.

"I had meant when she realized she was a witch, but I guess she thought I was calling her a nutter or something."

Ron eyed them a little, raising an eyebrow and gauging how they might react if he spoke. "I expect that went over nicely," he said after a moment.

"Worst bloody thing I could've asked," Harry said. "Somehow got us laughing though."

Silence fell between them as Harry and Hermione thought back on the memory and Ron speculated about what exactly went down between them in that tent. He was eager to find out but at the same time, a part of him didn't want to know if something _had _happened. He didn't like thinking of them being… intimate….

"So what happened," he said.

"Well," Hermione said, picking up where Harry left off. "It happened before we realized what exactly _was happening_, you know?"

Ron watched as she looked up and met Harry's eyes and was struck by the way they seemed to read each other's minds. He'd seen this look pass between them many, _many_ times, but he'd never really thought about it. People didn't give him a lot of credit where emotions were concerned, and for the most part, he understood why. He wasn't the most mature, but he liked it that way — too much emotion and a person got bogged down. Much like the way things had been recently. It's hard to stay distant when Hermione's involved, though.

But as he watched this look pass between them this time, he imagined a similar look passing between them one of those nights when he wasn't there in the tent and when they were running on emotions alone. When sleep had been little and far between and they were hungry for food, hungry for comfort… hungry for company. He tried to imagine himself in that situation, what he would do, how he'd react… and he started to realize that things would have ended up very differently had it been anyone but Harry and Hermione who were left in charge of figuring out how to defeat Voldemort.

Loss made them stronger. Love made them try harder. It works this way for so many others, but it occurred to Ron in this moment, as he watched this look pass forth between them now, in the dingy kitchen of Grimmauld Place, that it was somehow magnified for Harry and Hermione. He'd betrayed them numerous times, and yes, he'd always come back (and they should have known he'd come back this time) but it had always forced them closer together.

For so long, in so many different situations, they had been all the other had.

"I don't want you to think we didm anything, Ron," Hermione said, breaking him from his revelation.

He was slow coming back and had to blink a few times, think hard about whether or not he'd missed something they'd said.

"We almost did," Harry added — not as a correction to Hermione, but as an addition to what she had started to say. "We came really close, actually. Several times. It was warmer to sleep in one bed, but it also presented a lot of opportunity."

"Ron," Hermione cut in. He looked over at her and took in the flush in her cheeks. She wasn't proud of anything she was telling him. He could tell. "It's important to me that you understand that," she finished.

"I do," he said, and he was surprised to find that he meant it. "So, can I ask a question?"

"Sure," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Why'd you feel like you had to keep this from me? I mean, if you didn't do anything, it's not that big a deal right?"

Hermione looked at Harry. She tried to think about why it had been so important that this stay between them and wasn't really sure what her reasoning was.

"God, Hermione," Harry said, looking at her. "You're really drenched, aren't you?"

She looked down to her clothes and realized that the nightshirt under her jacket was practically see-through.

"Suppose you've got something I could borrow?"

"Sure, be right back." Harry excused himself and left the room. He wasn't trying to leave her to answer all the tough questions by her self so much as he was trying to give them some space to sort thing through without him awkwardly listening in. He figured things were about to turn a little private and didn't particularly care to hear the details live.

Ron watched Harry get up and didn't miss the fact that Harry seemed to subconsciously trail his hand along the back of Hermione's chair. Any other time he'd have thought it was out of habit — that he'd do it to anyone — but tonight, after hearing them talk the way they did, he wondered if there was more to it. And he wondered if either of them had any idea they still acted as if they were alone in the tent.

He waited until he could hear Harry's feet ascend the stairs to press Hermione again for her answer.

"I just really wish you had felt like you could share this with me. Maybe we could've avoided—" Hermione cut him off.

"Would you have really understood then, Ron? If I had sat you down one night and told you that Harry and I had nearly slept together countless times, would you have really reacted calmly? How would I even bring that up?"

"I guess that's a good point. I just wonder if _we _would have worked better without this big ghost between us."

"I don't think it would have been an issue if you and I were really supposed to be together, Ron." She averted her eyes, trying desperately not to tear up. "It's hard for me too, you know. I thought for a long time that it'd be me and you. I really did love you, Ron. I still do. I'm just… I don't think I've ever truly been _in_ love with you."

"I reckon we haven't really given ourselves the chance to see what it's like with other people, eh? Maybe that's what you started to realize with Harry."

"I'm sorry?"

Just then Harry came back through the door. Hermione wished that she'd been able to get Ron to clarify what he'd been saying. What did he mean, that's what she started to realize with Harry? Did he still think they were together? Was he OK with that? Hermione felt even more confused now than when they'd started.

"Here you go," Harry said, laying a pile of clothes atop the table in front of her. "Really had to go digging to find something that'd fit you."

"Yeah, since all your old stuff seems to be at her place," Ron said underhandedly.

"That's mature, mate," Harry said. Hermione rolled her eyes and took the clothes off the table, leaving the room to change.

"Well, it is! and look at it form my perspective, I know you two are as close as brother and sister, but when a bloke's girl is wearing another bloke's boxers to bed, a man's allowed to get fired up about it!"

"Not when it's your best mate!" Harry said, incredulous. "And not when they're boxers that she's had since you were all seventeen!"

"Bloody hell, how'd she get your…." Ron took a deep breath and leaned back into his chair in defeat. "Well I'm done being sore about it, I get it, you two… I still think something went down, but I understand if you don't want to tell me. I'm not sure I want to hear it anymore."

"You believe what you want to, Ron," Harry mirrored Ron's posture and relaxed into the chair, thoroughly done with the day and ready to get some rest. "But we've told you all there is to hear."

"You know," Ron said, looking at Harry. "I was thinking a lot while you two were talking. I…" he couldn't believe he was about to say this. "I wouldn't blame you if you had gotten together. I'd kind of come to terms with it, honestly. I was just pissed neither of you would tell me."

"You're a right git, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," Ron winked at Harry and Harry had to let out a little snort.

"You owe her a big apology. She's been good to you."

"I know she has."

"And she's been torn up for weeks over this whole thing."

"I still don't get that. If nothing happened why was it such a big deal?"

"Cause it's Hermione, mate," Harry said. "To her, thinking about it's as good as doing it."

"And are you two done thinking about it?" Ron said quietly.

Harry fixed his eyes on Ron and was about to answer when the door opened and Hermione plopped back down into her seat, a pair of blue, pin-stripped pajamas hanging comfortably from her curves.

She lifted her hands and held out her arms, indicating to the nightclothes. "Why haven't you ever offered these up before?"

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**Author's Note: Please let me know what you think. I'm going to try and update asap, but as I'm sure you've noticed, I have a lot of other stuff going on right now and so it might take a while. R&R! **

**Thanks! **


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